Proportional Response
by HecateA
Summary: Remus was under the impression that he was there to be her date and look pretty. He didn't know she was out for revenge, too. Oneshot.


**Author's Note: **Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Hogwarts: **

**Warnings: **Look at the ratings, my friends. Sexystuff themes ahead.

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**Stacked with: **Hogwarts; Shipping War; Citrius Mundra

**Individual Challenge(s): **Hufflepuff MC; Gryffindor MC; True Colours; Themes and Things A (Celebration); Themes and Things B (Surprise); Old Shoes; Rian-Russo Inversion; In a Flash

**Representation(s): **

**Bonus Challenge(s): **Brier (exhibitionism)

**Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s): **NA

**List (Prompt): **Fortune cookie prompts (the greatest risk is not taking one)

**Word Count: **746

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_**Shipping Wars**_

**Ship (Team): **Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin (Technicolour Moon)

**List (Prompt): **Summer Micro 2 (Sex/smut)

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**Proportional Response **

It was a very, very bad time for Remus to realize that he'd never seen Dora dressed up. She liked to have fun with her clothes; she layered them, threw colours and textures together haphazardly, laced up dragon-hide boots to wear under lace dresses, sewed up torn jeans with bright yellow thread… Scrimgeour must have made quite an impression, to convince her to dress up so properly for the Department of Justice's annual reception.

There was perhaps a correlation between her put-togetherness and the extra vacation days she'd taken, telling him not to worry about it. They'd met at Grimmauld Place and rushed to the Ministry to avoid the rain falling on London. This was why he hadn't quite seen her until he helped her with her coat once they arrived to the party.

"Thank you," she said.

He stuttered over the words for a second while he tried telling her how lovely she looked.

Her dress was a dark, navy glue. The halter straps met behind her neck, and he wasn't quite composed enough to make sense of its plunging neckline at the moment. The fabric hugged her middle, making her waist look incredible, before the skirt cascaded down to hit the floor. Her hair was a more docile, softer shade of pink than usual. It had been twisted and pinned in an elegant bun behind her right ear with pearl-studded pins. They must belong to Andromeda or one of her roommates. A strand of hair had fallen out and lurked near her left eye.

Finally, he managed to shake himself out of it and spoke.

"You look incredible, by the way," he said.

She smiled at him. Like all the other Aurors, she wore the ceremonial gold armbands along with her evening dress.

"Thank you," she said. "Oh and before I forget—you also look quite handsome."

He smiled and passed his coat along to the steward who met them by the door and shrugged off his own.

"Kingsley's here, thank Merlin, but Hestia's going to be late," Tonks said. She looked up at him. "It may not surprise you that I have been specifically warned to be on my best behaviour tonight—a promise I made that I'm not sure I'll be keeping."

"Ah," he said.

"Supposedly, I'm at-risk for disobedience," she said.

He swallowed and nodded.

"I'm not sure what the big worry was," Dora said. "Possibly that I'd sprout a pig snout or a pair of devil's horns upon laying eyes on the Minister."

"Maybe you'd do something irrational such as bring a werewolf to the party."

She smiled. "I brought my partner."

"There's a Venn diagram there that you should be aware of," he said, offering her his arm.

"Aware or a were?" Dora asked, smiling crookedly. She grabbed onto his arm before he could pull away and laughed. "Can I introduce you around?"

"If you'd like," he nodded. This was when he noticed that she was wearing a perfume she'd picked up a few weeks ago; it smelled like vanilla and cinnamon and drove him a little bit mad.

She was _absolutely_ trying to kill him.

She seemed to clue in on the effect she was having on him, because she smiled then.

"Everything okay, dear?" Dora asked. She leaned in closer. Her calloused fingertips started drawing circles on the inside of his palm.

"Fine," he said. The curl by her eye was just begging for him to reach out and tuck it away, but he didn't quite trust himself at the moment.

She smiled wider.

"That's good," Dora said. She wrapped an arm around him before her hand started dropping dangerously low. "Because we do have to socialize for at least an hour before I can use the key to the office I have in my pocket to… slip away."

Remus' jaw dropped a bit, but he closed his mouth quickly enough.

"That dress has pockets?" Remus asked in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation.

"This dress has everything it needs. Underwear, by the way, is not one of those things," she promised quietly.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Think of this as my sweet, sweet revenge for that Order meeting where you had trouble keeping your hands to yourself a while back," Dora smiled.

"This is not a proportional response," Remus whispered back.

"Don't worry; you'll benefit from this, ultimately," she said. "I promise. Oh look, Scrimngeour brought his wife, she's the chatty type. Let's go mingle."


End file.
